by Kelli Walker
“First of all, ya got yourself a spunky friend there in… uh… Jackson?”
“I can only imagine the conversation you had with him.”
“He told me ya were one of the CIA’s best undercover operatives ever.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Jackson can be full of shit sometimes,” I said.
“Well,” he said with a chuckle, “I don’t need any undercover stuff, but I could use a man on our sites that can fix the machinery. I’d be willing to pay ya a different fee as well. Ya know, a separate fee. For whenever stuff needed to be fixed.”
“You offering me a job?” I asked.
“We technically need an interview on file, but it would only be procedure at that point. You’re the only person who’s applied for the job in two months, so ya also happen to be the most qualified.”
“I’m flattered. I worked very hard on that application,” I said with a grin.
“Come in tomorrow around eight. We can get the interview out of the way, get your paperwork filled out, and get ya on our newest site. Only been in commission a couple days, so ya won’t be behind at all.”
“Thank you for the opportunity. I’ll see you then.”
“Don’t thank us. You’re doing me a favor.”
“I’ll see you then, Mr. Miller.”
“Nope. Dan. No ‘Mr.’ shit around here. See ya at eight sharp, Tristan.”
“See you then.”
Isabelle - Two Weeks Later
I crouched down with the sandpaper in my hand, smoothing it with the grain of the wood. Sweat dripped down my back even though the sun had only begun to rise. Even though it had been two weeks since Tristan had placed the order, I still couldn't get that encounter out of my head. His words circled in my mind as if they had been spoken yesterday.
Stunned?
He was stunned by me?
It was apparent those words weren’t supposed to come out of his mouth. They were meant for his mind, not mind. But the way those words made me feel surprised me. The jolt of happiness that coursed through my system was undeniable before my flight response kicked in. His soothing voice and those comforting eyes. Not to mention the chiseled form I knew was lurking beneath his clothes.
So many thoughts I hadn’t entertained in years.
As I prepared his television stand to be stained, I wondered more about him. About the man from the restaurant who had become my neighbor by pure happenstance. What brought him to our small corner of the world? Did he own a business? Was he looking to plant his roots after time abroad? He seemed like a well-traveled man. Worldly. Knowledgeable.
I fantasized about all the adventures this possible-traveller had been on.
Until a knock came at my door.
I put the stain down and dusted the last of the sawdust off the wood I was sanding. Then I stepped over to my door and took off my mask. I opened the door to see who was standing there. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I didn’t have any appointments. The only thing I could think was that there was some sort of emergency.
And then, I saw him.
Tristan.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Hey there. Can I help you?”
“I was wondering how all those pieces were coming along.”
“Oh, they’re coming along nicely. I’m already staining the television stand and I’m working on the mantelpiece now. Tomorrow I’m going to tackle the pieces for the dining room table and the chairs, then I’ll sand it all down, stain it, and piece it all together like we talked about. It should only take a couple more weeks on my part to have it all done.”
“Could I come in and see them?” he asked.
“Sure. Come on in.”
I opened the door wider for him and stepped out of the way. And when my eyes dropped to his hands, I saw grease stains underneath his fingernails.
“Whatcha been working on?” I asked.
His eyes panned over the pieces of wood I had cut and carved precisely to the measurements he provided for me.
“Tristan?”
“Hm? Sorry. What was that?” he asked.
I furrowed my brow and watched his eyes pan up to mine.
“You look like you’ve been working on something,” I said as I motioned to his hand.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I won’t touch anything. I got a job in town with a construction company, and on the side they pay me to fix their machinery as well if something goes wrong on a site.”
“So you’re a mechanic.”
“Well, my expertise is in construction. Mechanics was something I delved into with my father when I was younger. Like your woodworking,” he said.
“Did your father and you work on a lot of project together?”
“Mostly small things. Trucks. Cars. Bikes.”
“Like bicycles?”
“No. Motorcycles.”
“None of those are small things around here,” I said.
He chuckled, and the sound cascaded over my ears like smooth honey butter over a hot yeast roll.
“Does your family live in town?” I asked.
“They don’t.”
“Do you have anyone that lives in town?”
“I don’t.”
I wanted to ask more, but I stopped myself. It felt like I was broaching a topic I didn’t need to. Plus, the air between us was thick. Ripe with tension from the last time we talked. I wanted to bring that up as well, but something stopped me. The beginnings of a tremor in my hand started my fingers going, so I shoved them into the pockets of my jeans to keep them concealed.
The last thing I needed him to think was that I was a woodworker with unsure hands.
“What’s this going to be?” he asked.
“That’s the wood for your dining room table. The thicker piece is the top. There won’t be much to that other than cutting it into an even piece and sanding it down. The wood is beautiful the way it is, and if I stain it then it’ll only muddle the natural grain of the wood. I’ll cut it, sand it, and seal it.”
“That’s a good idea. I was going to say I liked this grain pattern.”
I watched his hand smooth over it and something inside me became insanely jealous of that piece of wood.
What was happening to me?
Sweat continued dripping down the back of my neck and I suddenly wanted some lemonade. But I also didn’t want to leave Tristan’s presence. The sun crept higher into the sky, but all I could focus on was him. His muscles that moved with every stroke of his hand. The way his towering form contrasted the boyish charm in his eyes. So many odd things I experienced when I was around him.
And all of them, breathtaking.
“So I’ve been out here pretty much all morning,” I said. “I was going to go inside and get a drink.”
“All morning? It’s only nine.”
“I was up early,” I said.
“Well, I don’t mean to keep you either way,” he said. “I’ll get going.”
“You could come inside and get some lemonade, if ya want.”
My eyes fluttered up to his as a grin spread across his cheeks.
That was good, right?”
“I’d like that,” he said. “If your lemonade is as good as your sweet tea.”
“It’s better.”
“Then sign me up.”
He walked alongside me into the house and I poured us each a glass of the yellow liquid. I sat down across from him at the kitchen table, unsure of where to begin the conversation. I wanted to know more about him. He was a curious man, and I was intrigued by his lack of foundation in the town and what brought him here.
So, I figured that was as good of a place as any to start.
“It’s odd,” I said.
“What’s odd?” Tristan asked.
I took a sip of my lemonade to give myself some time to collect my thoughts.
“It’s odd for someone to come into Georgetown without any family and settle down. What made you?” I asked.
He drew in a deep b
reath and something told me I needed to settle in for a story.
“It’s kind of complicated,” he said. “Where do you want me to start?”
“The beginning’s always good.”
“You got the time out of your work day to sit here?”
“I can make the time,” I said.
He twirled his glass on the table between his fingers, watching as the liquid swirled around in the glass.
“I used to live in D.C. I worked for the CIA.”
“You did what now?” I asked.
He chuckled as his eyes flickered up to mine.
“That’s the same reaction I get from most around here. I still don’t think people believe me.”
“You worked for the CIA.”
“I did. I was an undercover operative. At least, that was my specialty.”
“Get out of here,” I said. “Seriously? Like that stuff on television?”
“Television is never what it seems when it comes to things like that. But yes, like the stuff you see on T.V.”
“So are you-?”
“Out here on a mission right now? No,” he said. “That’s the second most popular question I get from people around here, by the way.”
“Can’t fault us for being curious,” I said with a smile.
He mimicked my movements and I found his smile to be comforting. A stark contrast from what I was used to with men.
“I retired from the CIA after I-”
I watched his eyes cloud over with something dark and a pain I was all too familiar with crept over his stare.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I said.
“I lost someone I cared for and loved very deeply. It put me in a really dark place. And in that dark place, I came to find that I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t stay at my job because it would consume me. My boss urged me to take some time off, but the downtime only made it worse. Sitting around in a city surrounded by so many memories…”
I wanted to reach out and take his hand for comfort. I knew what it felt like to be surrounded by memories I didn’t want to remember. There was a reason I didn’t frequent parts of Georgetown any longer. Especially for DeShawn’s sake.
It was comforting to be in common company, but it pained me to know this man understood that kind of pain.
“So, the time off because permanent. I retired, cashed in all my stuff, packed up the things I could stand to take with me, and drove out here. I stopped in a few places, but none of them seemed like home.”
“But Georgetown did?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said as his eyes came to meet mine. “It did.”
“Well, I’m glad our town could give you a fresh start.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” he said. “So, does this mean I get to ask the one question that’s been on my mind about you?”
“There’s a question on your mind about me?” I asked.
“There is.”
“Well, turnabout’s only fair play,” I said.
“You seem very young to have two teenage boys,” Tristan said.
“Ah, the age-old question. It’s been a while since I’ve been asked it.”
“I don’t want to offend you or anything. From what I can tell, you’re an excellent mother.”
“Most wouldn’t agree with you, but I do what I can,” I said.
“I’m going to throw all of the manners my mother taught me out the window right now by asking this, but do you simply look young for your age?”
“No,” I said. “The other one.”
He nodded his head as I took another sip of my lemonade.
“I got pregnant at a very young age. Fifteen. I had to drop out of high school in order to cope with some things and deal with the backlash my family took because of it, then I went back later and got my GED.”
“It takes a very strong woman to do something like that,” Tristan said.
“That’s the nice word for it, yes. Most people around here called me stupid for it.”
“Why?”
“My father and I had a decent enough relationship, but I knew there were sometimes where he wished I was a boy. You know, southern pride and all that. I could run and spit and bat with the rest of them, but when I got pregnant there was this… blanket of shame that seemed to settle on our family.”
I gripped my glass harder to keep my hands from trembling. Tristan seemed like an honest, genuine guy. I was mentally coaching myself to not lump him in with that man. To not lump him in with DeShawn’s father. To not lump him in with my own father.
“What happened? And if you don’t want to talk about it-”
“It’s fine,” I said. “Turnabout and all that.”
“Isabelle.”
“Hmm?” I asked.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
There was a sincerity in his eyes I wanted to believe. A kindness I wanted to think existed in men. So, against everything my mind was yelling at me, I look a leap of faith.
“It’s fine. Really,” I said. “The woman you met at the restaurant in town. Remember?”
“The one with the rainbow hair?” he asked.
“Yeah. Bella Dawn. When my father threw me out-”
“He did what now?”
“It’s more common down here than you’d think. When I decided to keep the baby, he was irate. Said I was destroying my entire future by having my ‘bastard child’.”
“I can see why you kept referring to him in the past tense the last time we talked.”
“Yep. But when he threw me out, Bella Dawn and her mother took me in. Bella’s mother had her at a young age, so she understood my predicament. I had Dominique, the two of them helped me through the first year, and then I went back for my GED. Then I waitressed in town at the restaurant Bella Dawn’s working at now to pay for community college.”
“You did all of that at… what age?” Tristan asked.
“I took the job at seventeen? Yeah, seventeen. Just after I’d studied for and gotten my high school equivalency out of the way.”
“What type of degree did you get in community college?”
“An Associate’s in Business Management,” I said with a smile.
“Why did I even ask?”
“I really don’t know,” I said playfully. “My business? It was actually my final project before graduation. We were supposed to outline this fake business and set up everything. Make a budget. A timeline. Things like that. And it sort of just took off from there. Bella told me it would be a great idea actually, so I started with little things. Rented out people’s equipment they already had and such. I quit my job waitressing at twenty when things really took off for me, and I’ve been woodworking full-time ever since.”
The look on Tristan’s face was nothing short of shock.
“That’s remarkable,” he said.
“Not really. I did what I had to do for my boys,” she said.
“So, is DeShawn yours? Or is he adopted?” he asked.
But before I could answer his question, my cell phone rang out.
“I’m sorry. Can you hold on a second?” I asked.
“Sure. Yeah. I’m good. Let me know if I need to get out of your hair.”
“You stay right there,” I said as I pulled my phone out. “I’m having way too much fun with this.”
“Good. Because I am, too.”
“This is Isabelle Carpenter,” I said as I looked back at Tristan.
He was grinning at me and taking another sip of his lemonade. Watching me with those brooding brown eyes. He really was a looker. And the more I got to know about him, the more I wanted to be around him. I was drawn to him for some reason, and I couldn’t figure out why. I thought maybe if I knew more about him and what brought him to my hometown, maybe I’d figure out why he intrigued me as much as he did.
I didn’t have any answers on that front. But one thing did change.
I wanted to be around him as much
as I could.
“Miss Carpenter. It’s David Culpepper.”
And the second he said his name, my heart froze in my chest.
Tristan
I watched her demeanor change and I was instantly on alert. I stood to my feet, abandoning the lemonade as I walked around the table. She spoke lowly to herself. Almost in a whispered voice. Then she hung up the phone as I approached her. My heart slammed in my chest. Every tactic of defense I’d used in the CIA came blasting back to my mind. My clenched my fists at my sides as she turned around, jumping when she saw how close I was.
“Oh my goodness.”
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes. I’m fine. Just uh…”
“Is everything okay, Isabelle?”
Her eyes fluttered up to mine and I watched her turning something over.
But what, I had no idea.
“Yes. Just something to do with the boys. I have to go.”
“Are they okay?” I asked as I moved alongside her. “Do you need anything?”
“No, no. Not a thing. Just, I do need you to go home. I’m about to lock up.”
“Isabelle, are you sure nothing’s-”
“Everything’s fine, Tristan,” she said as she shuffled me out the front door. “But I do have to get going. I’m sorry to cut our drink short.”
“It’s fine. Don’t apologize. But I’m worried about your change in demeanor.”
“That your CIA training?” she asked as she locked the door behind her.
“If you want to blame it on that, then sure.”
“It’s fine. They’re fine. Everything’s fine.”
I wanted to press her on it. I knew better than that. But she was frazzled and itching to get away. And I knew better than to get in between a momma bear and her cubs.
“Thank you for the lemonade,” I said.
“Yeah, yeah. Anytime. Gotta go. Sorry!”
Then she dipped herself into her car and quickly made her way down the road.
I watched her disappear before her car skidded around the corner. Something wasn’t right, and the hairs on the back of my neck were tingling. I walked back to my house and listened as another pair of tires squealed off in the distance.
Tires I was sure were hers.
I knew my gut. I’d trusted it with my life on several occasions. And not once had it ever steered me wrong. My gut was telling me something wasn’t right. That it was more than just the boys in trouble at school. Isabelle hadn’t looked upset, like a mother would be at having to pick her kids up from school early. She looked worried.